#In the Lord of Power ecosystem

[lordofpower-nft]

In the Lord of Power ecosystem, the Play-to-earn mode will become one of the core points of the game. Making money while playing is the biggest selling point of the Lord of Power. #mysteryboxes #mysterybox #NFTCommunity #NFTGiveaways #NFTGame #Gamefi #GameFi‌ #PlayToEarnGame

In the Lord of Power ecosystem, the Play-to-earn mode will become one of the core points of the game. Making money while playing is the biggest selling point of the Lord of Power. #mysteryboxes #mysterybox #NFTCommunity #NFTGiveaways #NFTGame #Gamefi #GameFi‌ #PlayToEarnGame

[devieuls]

ˋ Haunted .✵

Qimir x Ex Jedi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Sith Lord Qimir x Fem ex Jedi Reader.

(during the series)

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM. Dom Qimir ANGST: toxic relationship, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Qimir 35 y.o / You 22 y.o.

Synopsis: In a twisted web of light and darkness, two opposites are facing each other, dancing on a thin thread called fate. What happens when light and darkness dance on a wire called destiny, two eternal opposites that inevitably attract each other and create something perfectly powerful and chaotic to unite the power of two in one? The answer emerges in a journey of tension and attraction, where yin and yang discover that their opposition is nothing but a reflection of a deep and unexpected connection. This is the story of how destruction is akin to peace, how the moon one day decided to save the sun, how darkness is not so dark and evil so bad. A journey towards change and desire, where opposing forces merge into a future that no one could have predicted.

(Following some events of the series)

Lenght: 4.9k

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Chapter I: The Abyss of Temptation

(The shuttle landed silently on the verdant surface of the planet Khofar, a wild jewel among the worlds of the Outer Rim Territories. As the hatch opened, a wave of humidity enveloped the Jedi, carrying with it the intense scent of damp earth and the exotic fragrance of the lush vegetation. The forest stretched out before them like an endless sea of green, where the trees rose like ancient towers, their massive trunks covered in layers of gleaming moss. The thick, intertwined canopies above them created a natural roof, allowing only faint rays of light to filter through, speckling the ground with golden patches. Khofar was a living, wild planet, and they were only temporary visitors, intruders in an ancient and balanced ecosystem. Every rustle among the leaves, every distant call, was a warning. A premonition or prelude to what the day would bring.)

If only you had known in advance that your teammates would die one by one before your eyes as you returned from the hut where Jedi Master Kelnacca lived, you would have thought twice before agreeing to the mission. You had fought against the Sith who killed your friends, battling with anger and bitterness, in a grief too fresh to fully comprehend. In the end, the pain of your body hitting the hard ground was nothing compared to the searing agony in your side from a nearly fatal wound. Your vision began to blur, and you could only see footsteps approaching before everything faded to black.

You awoke slowly, as if emerging from a hibernation that had lasted for years. Your eyes opened with difficulty, greeted by a nearly suffocating gloom. The dim light of a few torches was the only source of illumination within what seemed to be a cave. The rocky walls, uneven and cold, seemed to loom over you. You felt weak, every movement was a struggle, and a dull pain throbbed in your side. You tried to sit up, but your injured side forced you back down, a hiss of pain escaping your lips. You brought a trembling hand to the wound and felt the rough texture of the bandages wrapped around the torn flesh. Despite the agony, the wound had apparently been cleaned and treated with care. Someone had taken the time to tend to it, to ensure it would heal, though it was still far from being fully recovered. You looked around, trying to piece together fragments of memory that crowded your mind. You remembered your friends' deaths, Sol screaming, your lightsaber changing color, and a battle. You recalled the fierce confrontation with the Sith, your fall, and the darkness that enveloped you. But beyond that, nothing. You had no idea how you had ended up in that cave, nor who had brought you there.

Your heart raced, panic beginning to seep into your thoughts. Were you a prisoner? And if so, who had shown such mercy to tend to your wounds? The most unsettling question was the most obvious: why hadn't the Sith eliminated you when he had the chance? A shadowy thought slithered into your mind, and the face of the Sith echoed in the depths of your being. The idea that he might have been the one to save you, to care for you, was as chilling as it was improbable. Yet, you couldn’t shake the possibility from your mind, no matter how absurd it seemed.

You dragged yourself out with great effort, and through the blinding light, you saw the silhouette of a man, barely identifiable. You followed him stealthily, still holding your side and trying to endure the pain from the wound. For a moment, you lost sight of him, only to find him again shortly after, immersed in a pool of water in what seemed to be a coastal area with black sand you couldn’t identify. Your eyes fell on the figure facing away from you, submerged in the water, his muscles relaxed, his raven hair wet and slicked back. To your eyes, the man seemed completely unaware of your presence, though he appeared to have a vigilant awareness of the surrounding area. You moved silently among the rocks and vegetation, observing your target until your gaze fell upon a pile of clothes near the shore, where the deactivated lightsaber lay. With swift and somewhat precise movements, you approached the lightsaber. Tension mounted inside you as you crouched to pick it up, aware that any sound could betray your presence. You grasped the metallic object and assumed an attack position as the man began to speak, still with his back turned while he calmly washed himself.

"how does it feel?" he said, turning towards you. You recognized him immediately. The mere sight of his face sparked rage within you. "Pleasant, don't you think?" His tone was a piercing screech to your ears. You gritted your teeth, not responding, remaining in your attack stance. "Your stance is good despite the wound on your side, but your elbows are a real mess. I had my doubts when we fought last time, and now I see why it was so easy to defeat you. Your elbows are too low; you should keep one higher, you know?" he continued, observing you. "…To block more quickly and strike with more precision." He took a brief pause. "Since you don’t know how to use the Force, you should learn to block better," he concluded, stepping out of the water, now only a few steps away from you.

"Don’t move," your stance changed, now aiming the off lightsaber directly at him. Your gaze was sharp and cold. "If you don’t want to join me, at least let me put my clothes on" he said. You took a slight step back, allowing him to exit the water. You swallowed, trying not to let your gaze fall on the naked, wet defined body of the man, keeping in your mind that he was your enemy. You began to ponder whether it was appropriate to attack him now. But it was neither Jedi-like to strike a defenseless man nor to act in such a dishonorable manner. "Surely, you’re wondering if it’s honorable to kill me like this," he began, his tone different from the one used in battle. You swallowed. Your gaze fell for a second on his chest, and you cursed yourself for the terrible idea. "In battle it’s justified, but days later isn’t it revenge?" he asked with a sarcastic tone, as if he already knew the answer. "And now you wonder if I can read your mind… and the answer is… no. Anger betrays your thoughts" he continued, dressing himself as if you weren’t pointing a weapon at him. His gaze seemed oddly gentle, more delicate, almost innocent. So much so that he almost didn’t seem like the same man who had killed seven Jedi just a few nights before.

"Why did you bring me here? Why didn’t you kill me?" you asked, watching him sternly, uncertain of what to do next. "Am I your prisoner?" "Prisoner? You’re the one with a weapon" he said with an overly calm look and an obvious tone in his voice, as he walked back towards the cave, passing by you without fear. You followed him, teeth clenched. You wanted revenge on this man, but what a miserable person you would be to strike him from behind while he was unarmed. "If you keep me here, Sol will come for you. He’s found me before, and he’s powerful with the Force." Your voice sounded threatening, though not as forceful as you’d hoped due to the stabbing pain in your side. The man turned and looked at you with a puzzled expression. "Do you think he’s powerful with the Force? It’s you who’s powerful with the Force, y/n. Someone should teach you," he said. You were stunned for a few seconds, as he knew your name. To you, he was a stranger, but you didn’t seem to be as unknown to him. The stranger walked back into the cave, and you followed him, confused. "In what way am I powerful with the Force? You should know it’s something to be practiced. If you don’t train it, it fades" you said, your voice still sharp as you scrutinized the man who seemed so at ease in your presence. You had long abandoned being a Jedi, retreating shortly after becoming officially part of the Order. If it hadn’t been for your sister leaving a trail of blood wherever she went, you would have stayed far away from that world. You had lost every Force ability, not having practiced it for many years. You vaguely remembered how to use a lightsaber, thanks to Sol, who had helped you recall the skills during the time you spent together, training with his young Padawan Jecki.

The stranger was seated next to what appeared to be a small campfire, while you kept your distance. He tasted the food he was cooking. You didn’t trust him; something about him made you suspicious, aside from the fact that he had decimated your team. "You know… The Jedi teach that there’s only one way to access the Force, and if you don’t do it their way, it fades. But there’s another way," he said gently, turning his gaze toward you. "Beneath the surface of consciousness, there are powerful emotions." "Anger. Fear. Loss…" he slowly mentioned the emotions you had learned to suppress, as you had been taught in the Order during your time as a Jedi Padawan. "…desire." The last emotion was spoken almost in a whisper as he took on a more serious and penetrating expression. You swallowed, observing him with disdain, though you subconsciously held your breath as he listed the emotions. "That’s the path to the dark side," the words came out acridly from your mouth.

The man’s expression darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a mocking smile. "semantics… You Jedi are so closed-minded," he replied, turning back to the fire, stirring the stew he was cooking. "The light side isn’t the only way to access the Force. The dark side… amplifies emotions. It’s just another way to access the Force. A way… to freedom." His convincing tone almost seemed reasonable, though it was contrary to your way of thinking. "You killed my friends," your gaze grew even sharper and more bitter, as your hand still gripped the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber, seeking comfort in the familiar cold metal. The Sith’s words were like poison seeping into your mind, exploiting the insecurities you had always tried to suppress. "Friends? That’s what you call people who come to seek you only in moments of need and then ignore your existence?" His voice was laced with a mix of disdain and feigned compassion. Every word from this man was a blade sinking into your soul, touching raw nerves you had tried to ignore. You had been trained to combat fear, anger, desire—all emotions that, if left unchecked, could lead you down the dark path. But at that moment, you felt the internal storm growing, fueled by suffering and loss, a mourning.

"War isn’t pretty, y/n, sometimes…" he began, his voice dropping to a near-whisper as he stood up, beginning to walk toward you with determined steps, never breaking eye contact. "Sacrifices must be made for a greater good." He stopped just inches from you, his penetrating gaze studying you with a mix of cynicism and desire, as if challenging you to contradict him. Every fiber of his being radiated an irresistible force, a magnetism that seemed to envelop him like a shadow. He leaned slightly toward you, his warm breath brushing against your skin as his lips dangerously neared your ear. "Your friends," he whispered with a cold, almost contemptuous tone, "were just collateral damage." His words were like sharp knives—cutting and relentless—but the seductive tone with which he spoke betrayed an unsettling intimacy, as if he were confiding a dark secret that only you could understand.

The stranger leaned back slightly, just enough to meet your gaze. His dark eyes, deep as an abyss, stared at you with an intensity that seemed to penetrate directly into your soul. His face was close, too close, and his expression was serious, almost sorrowful, but there was no trace of remorse—only a dark understanding. "Why do you love people who can only go so far?" His voice dropped further, becoming a near-confidential whisper. "Who can’t go as deep as you can?" His gaze was intense, his eyes locked onto yours with an expression that seemed to reveal far more than his words had. There was a hidden desire, a need struggling to surface, but the man skillfully masked it, maintaining a subtle balance between cynicism and seduction.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of his words and his proximity. You knew that behind those words lay a darkness trying to corrupt you, but his allure was dangerously real. Your mind was conflicted, torn between repulsion at the Sith’s cynicism and the irresistible magnetism surrounding him. The man gave you a slight smile, a smile that never quite reached his eyes, as he pulled back just a few centimeters, leaving you teetering between temptation and inner struggle. "Maybe, y/n," he added in a mellifluous voice, "you’re destined for something more… something greater… something that I can show you." "I’m not my sister. I’m not so easily corrupted," you said, looking him straight in the eyes, trying to maintain control over yourself. Every fiber of your being struggled to suppress the tumultuous emotions the stranger had tried to awaken in you. Your heart pounded loudly, betraying you, but your face remained impassive, covered by a studied veil of disgust. With a slow, deliberate motion, you took a step back, putting distance between you, your gaze charged with superiority and defiance.

Qimir observed you with an impassive expression, but behind his dark eyes was growing interest, a sort of admiration for your resilience. To him, you were not like the other Jedi he had encountered, too weak or easily swayed. In you, he saw a potential acolyte, someone with an inner strength that could be nurtured and guided toward an even greater power. A subtle smile appeared on his lips, a nearly imperceptible curve that betrayed his pleasure at seeing you so determined. "You’re not like your sister, that’s true," he admitted with a tone that seemed both a compliment and a challenge. He took a step toward you, closing the space between you once more, but this time with an even more calculated calm, like a hunter who knows its prey. "But don’t mistake your determination for invulnerability," he continued, his voice soft and sharp as a blade. "The force you suppress within you, the force you’ve learned to stifle, is what could make you great—much greater than the Jedi could ever imagine. I see in you a potential that goes beyond the limitations of their dogma, and that is what frightens them." He stopped just a few steps from you, his gaze locked on yours, trying to pierce through the mask you had erected. "I’m not here to corrupt you," he whispered, his voice almost persuasive. "I’m here to offer you a choice, a path that the Jedi have always denied you. A road to a freedom you don’t yet know." You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to show any weakness to him.

"I don’t need your freedom," you replied coldly, your voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "Your whispers don’t touch me. I know who I am and what I represent." "So sure of yourself" he murmured, with a tone that seemed to appreciate your determination. "But what do you truly represent, y/n? A Jedi struggling against her own nature, stifling the potential that could make her truly powerful? Oh… perhaps I should say, ex-Jedi?" he asked with ironic amusement, towering over your figure. You clenched your teeth, pointing the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber at his stomach.

He tilted his head slightly, amused, his gaze growing more penetrating as he sought to reach that part of you he knew existed—the part that thirsted for knowledge, power, something more. “You feel the Force, you perceive it in ways that even the Jedi cannot understand. And you know there is a greater, deeper power calling you. It is not betrayal to explore that possibility. It is… evolution.” His words, spoken with such conviction, seemed to echo in the cave, breaking through the barriers you had erected to protect yourself. You raised your lightsaber to meet the man's neck. “Do it… light it” he ordered, his tone of challenge making your blood boil. The Sith, on the other hand, seemed delighted by your anger, his sharp and contemptuous smile only fueling the tension. Qimir merely tilted his head slightly to the side, offering his neck completely to you, his penetrating gaze fixed on the lightsaber you pointed at him, waiting for the moment you would decide to ignite it.

“A Jedi… does not attack the unarmed" you said through gritted teeth, your voice a murmur of frustration and determination. Your mind was a tumult of emotions, but your will to remain true to your principles was steadfast. “Do you still think you’re a Jedi?” he asked, his voice low and enveloping, almost hypnotic. “Don’t you remember how your lightsaber changed color the last time? Do you still believe you must adhere to a code you’re questioning within yourself?” Those words hit like a punch to the stomach, evoking images you would have preferred to forget. The blade of your lightsaber, once glowing a pure blue, had trembled, taking on red hues like those of the man before you. You took a step back, your heart racing, desperately trying to put space between you and that voice which seemed to read into you with ruthless precision. But the man gave you no respite. His hand moved with surprising speed, gripping your arm in a gentle yet firm hold. His fingers closed around your wrist, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from withdrawing the saber from his neck. The contrast between the contained strength of his touch and the relaxed calm of his face left you breathless.

His penetrating gaze was fixed on your eyes, a subtle yet relentless challenge. “You know yourself that after what’s happened you couldn’t return to the Jedi even if you wanted to,” he whispered, his tone charming and confident, as if he had already won this silent battle. “Sol has seen it, don’t believe that after succumbing to rage and revenge you can return to a position that no longer belongs to you.” You felt trapped, not so much by his hand holding you but by the words resonating inside you. His words seemed to challenge every certainty you had until that moment. Every fiber of your being wanted to reject him, but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at you, that made you doubt, even if just for a moment. Qimir moved closer, his warm breath against your skin, each movement calculated with lethal precision. “It’s not a matter of principles, y/n,” he continued, his tone now almost seductive. “That pain, that anger… this is what you are.” Your breath grew irregular, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to maintain control. “Let me go.” you threatened, your voice a low growl, but you knew there was a shadow of hesitation you couldn’t hide.

“Sol saw it… the Jedi saw it” he continued, his tone now softer but laden with cruel truth. “And for that, they will throw you away, again.” His piercing gaze cut into you, as your eyes took on an expression of anger and fear at his words. You felt his words like a sharp blade piercing through your defenses, and your gaze hardened, but you couldn’t hide the flicker of fear in your eyes. The fear that, deep down, he might be right. The fear that your Order, those you would give your life to protect, might indeed see you as a threat, something to be eliminated. The Sith sensed that shift within you, and his gaze became even more penetrating, probing every corner of your mind. It was as if he could see every weakness, every hidden thought, and he used them with a terrifying skill. “You can’t hide from what you are, y/n. The dark side isn’t a weakness… it’s your strength. And you know it.” You gritted your teeth, disgust and anger mixing into an explosive blend that pushed you closer to the edge. He seemed to know exactly which buttons to press; every word, every look was a sharp blade striking at your raw nerves. The tension inside you grew, turning into a knot that threatened to snap. Until you could no longer hold it back, and it was in that moment that you ignited the lightsaber, the glowing blade just a breath away from his neck. “It won’t be like that,” you hissed, your voice barely above a whisper, desperately trying to stay calm, though your eyes betrayed the mask of confidence you wore. “I will not succumb to the dark side.”

The man remained still, his mocking smile slowly widening as his eyes stayed fixed on yours, as if he were looking through you, reading every hidden thought. He swallowed slowly, a gesture that seemed almost like an invitation, a further provocation. The blade of your saber illuminated his face, but there was no trace of fear in his eyes, only a cold calm. “It’s not something you have to give in to… it’s inside you,” he said with that velvety voice of his, each word a whisper insinuating doubt into your certainties. His words struck you like a blow to the heart, breaking that fragile barrier you were desperately trying to maintain. “Your potential is immense,” he continued, lowering his voice to a warm, almost intimate whisper. Your gaze grew sharper as the subtle poison in his words sought to seep into your consciousness. The lightsaber blade barely touched his skin without making contact, his calm expression only annoying you. It was as if the threat had no effect on him, as if he knew you would never have the courage to go through with it. Every movement he made was slow, deliberate, calculated to keep you on edge, playing with your emotions like a master puppeteer. Anger bubbled within you, a fire growing ever stronger, fueled by his words, his confident smile, the way he seemed to control everything. You couldn’t deny it; there was a part of you that wanted to give in, that wanted to let go of the anger, the pain that burned so intensely. And he knew it; you could feel it in his voice, see it in his eyes.

“I understand…” His voice was a seductive whisper, just above a breath, as his hand rose with studied slowness, approaching yours without ever touching it. His eyes, which had been filled with impenetrable confidence until now, took on a new light, something deeper, almost vulnerable. “I’ve lost everything, y/n…” His gaze now seemed sincere, almost pleading for some strange reason. “But when you lose everything,” he continued, his hand now resting on yours, which still gripped the cold lightsaber handle. The contact was surprisingly gentle, a light pressure, but enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. His grip was soft but firm, and the contrast between his words and the apparent gentleness of the gesture made you waver. “That’s when you’re truly free,” he concluded, his voice a whisper carrying an inescapable weight, an invitation to surrender, to let go of everything that still bound you to the light. His gaze locked onto your eyes, deep, almost pleading, but not for pity: for understanding, for sharing. It was as if he wanted you to see the world through his eyes, to understand that the dark side wasn’t a condemnation but a liberation. His words struck you forcefully, penetrating your defenses once again with lethal precision. It wasn’t just a mental game; there was something genuine in the pain that lingered in his voice, a shadow of loneliness that echoed your own torment. And in that moment, the Sith you had seen as an implacable enemy became a figure that seemed to understand your suffering, your anger.

“The anger you feel, the pain that consumes you… you don’t have to fight it,” he continued, his tone calm and inviting. The tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. You felt the dark side’s pull toward him, the promise of freedom shining like an irresistible temptation. But there was something more in that man, something human, making it harder to you to ignore. The sincerity in his gaze, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper, made you doubt your certainties. His hand, warm against yours, made you feel dangerously close to an abyss you weren’t sure you wanted to avoid. You remained still, analyzing his words in your mind. The lightsaber still tightly gripped in your hand, your teeth clenched as you swallowed before sighing, thinking about what you should do. You deactivated the lightsaber and stepped away from him, pressing the hilt of the now-deactivated saber against his chest. You wouldn’t be deceived by his seductive words. You knew who you were and what you fought for. But, inside, a small part couldn’t help but wonder: what if he was right?

“You don’t know me to tell me these things. And as I’ve said, I’m not corruptible like my sister,” You hissed, your voice charged with a tension the man couldn’t help but appreciate. He let his smile spread slowly across his face, watching with almost amused interest as you deactivated the lightsaber and then pressed the hilt against his chest. The determination in your eyes, the resolve in your gesture, fascinated him. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, but there was something in you, an inner strength, a resilience that intrigued him deeply. He could see the internal struggle you were facing, the conflict between the Jedi code and the emotions he had deliberately stirred.

The Sith, with a slow and measured gesture, placed the hilt of the deactivated lightsaber on a nearby rock. The smile on his face shifted into a smirk of satisfaction. “Perhaps I know you better than you think,” he admitted, his voice soft and filled with an intensity that echoed in the silence of the cave, where only the crackling of the fire could be heard. “I see who you are… who you could be. Your strength, your will…” His steps continued to close the distance between you, and you took a step back, trying to maintain the space between you. He gently took your wrist and pulled you slightly towards him, towering over your smaller figure. He looked at you with what might have seemed like admiration or… desire. You held your breath, swallowing, paralyzed by what could be the gentlest yet most dangerous of predators. The man brought his face closer to yours, the distance between you reduced to mere centimeters, his breath mingling with yours, warm and slow. His touch was once again firm but never painful. His eyes, dark as the abyss, glowed with an intensity that slowly captivated you. You found yourself hanging on his lips, almost asking for permission to breathe regularly. “It is rare…” he concluded. You took a deep breath, and the tension between you was growing increasingly palpable. His tone was like sweet poison, flowing slowly through your veins, making you doubt once more everything you had always believed. His hand slowly moved from your wrist to your side, stopping just below your ribs, where the wound, though treated, still throbbed painfully. The contact, though light, made you flinch, a mix of pain and something else you couldn’t quite identify. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, the tension between you becoming almost unbearable.

“You’re still loyal to someone who didn’t think twice about abandoning you to the enemy on Khofar some nights ago…” You swallowed at his words, feeling the knot in your throat that blocked every word and the weight in your stomach. “Deep down, you’re still searching for a master, someone to guide you… That life, you’ve never truly felt it as your own; they never understood you,” he continued, his gaze fixed on your eyes as if he could see inside you, reading every thought, every hidden emotion. “But I can.” For a moment, you felt yourself falter at those words. The tension between you was palpable, and you could not take your eyes off what must be your enemy, although your mind tried to keep lucidity. Your breathing was slow and irregular, each breath an attempt to hold back an invisible and unknown force that seemed to want to overwhelm you. The knot in your throat was getting tighter, blocking the words you wanted to say. Your eyes were mesmerized. There was an incredible intensity in those foxy eyes, a mixture of fear and fascination that left your heart inexplicably throbbing and mind confused. You failed to swallow trying to make words come out to counter his claims

“You are like me…” he whispered a short distance from your lips.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes :

Well, yes, the sexy hot af villain who will be the protagonist of the new series is Him. Qimir, from The Acolyte. If you don’t know him, go and watch that series because Manny Jacinto put all his effort to seduce us towards the dark side. This is just the beginning, still do not know how many chapters will have but I hope not many, I would like to write about more topics for him.

if you haven’t seen the series there will be some spoilers, so please watch the series first

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

[thewertsearch]

TT: You mentioned immortality. TT: Godhood makes one immortal? […] One will live forever, unless killed. The death must be either heroic or just. TT: How are those terms defined? Broadly, mysteriously, and according to the case of the individual. One may be killed by opposing a corrupt adversary and die for a just cause, as through martyrdom, for instance. This would be heroic. Or one may be subject to corruption, and slain by a hero. This would be just.

Heroic Players can die fighting 'corrupt adversaries', whereas Just Players can be 'corrupted', and 'slain by a hero'. There's a clear dichotomy here, wherein 'corrupt' God Tiers are particularly vulnerable to self-sacrificing God Tiers, and vice-versa.

I like it. It's a very mythological way for immortality to work, and it gels well with Sburb's fantasy narrative. Rose's alliance with the Horrorterrors probably marks her as corrupted, so God Tier ascension probably wouldn't grant her true immortality.

The concept is fascinatingly ambiguous, too. Morality is a controversial subject at the best of times, and allowing Sburb to judge the ethics of a Player's actions could get very tricky, very fast. There's no doubt in my mind that Sburb and I disagree vehemently about what constitutes a just cause, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

TT: Which sort of death will you have when I destroy the sun? Neither. I'm not a god. I'm a guardian, a servant, and a weapon. I have power and knowledge far surpassing a god. But I am not one.

First Guardians are considered far more powerful than God Tiers, then. Aradia was able to get the drop on Jack, but Jack's really just a Kernelsprite imitation of a First Guardian. Scratch is far more threatening, especially since his brain isn't scrambled by dog memories.

...that said, his brain might be a little scrambled by whatever was in that HONK code. Who knows what Alt-Gamzee was cooking there.

My master can't enter this universe until I am killed. […] TT: That almost sounds like martyrdom. Are you sure it won't be a hero's death? Quite sure. My master is a very evil man. TT: Who is he? I won't tell you his name. But he goes by the title, Lord English.

About bloody time. This guy’s been sneaking around the back of the story for over two thousand pages, and it sounds like we're finally going to shed some light on this mysterious adversary.

But you must decide which objective is more important. You may decide to attempt to destroy the sun and end my life. This will neutralize Jack, who is also much more powerful and dangerous than myself by virtue of the ring he wears in addition to drawing energy from the same sun as I. He poses a significant threat to reality.

I'm still skeptical about this assertion. What could Jack's other kernels possibly offer that his First Guardian powers don't render obsolete?

Anyway - even if Jack does have better numbers, Scratch is still far more dangerous by virtue of the mind he wields.

TT: But in the process of killing him and you, I release your master, who is just as deadly? He's more deadly. But the danger he poses is sanctioned by paradox space. It is a known quantity. His very existence in a universe will mean it will inevitably be torn apart. But there are rules to his entry, and his grim procession through paradox space is rather orderly. The present equilibrium has accounted for him, and will continue to.

I did wonder if English was part of Paradox Space's natural ecosystem, charged with destroying old universes in much the same way Sburb destroys planets.

Even if he is part of Skaia's ineffable plan, I don't think that should stop us from ending his sorry ass. We might not understand English's motivations, but we do know that his plans destroy anyone unfortunate enough share his plane of reality, and countless lives have already been ruined in Scratch’s quest to bring him out. I don't really care if Paradox Space sanctions his actions - he needs to be taken down, and if that upsets the natural order, then it's time for a new natural order.

Besides, we probably don't even need to destroy the Sun to stop Jack. We have plenty of other angles to work, from exploiting his psychological weaknesses to negotiating with his slightly more reasonable deputy. Additionally, Jadesprite won't be out of action forever, and Jack can't even harm Jadesprite, due to the aforementioned psychological weaknesses. Even if she's inherited Bec's 'don't fight Agents' programing, that doesn't stop her from simply stealing his Ring. She's done it before.

Jack however is a loose cannon. He will not stop until he destroys everything he encounters.

Yeah - to be honest, Scratch, I'm starting to think you're laying it on a little thick, here. Is Jack really the omniversal 'threat to reality' that you're making him out to be?

Let's not get it twisted - I have no trouble believing that he's dangerous to individual sessions. But does he really have the juice to wreak cosmic destruction on the scale of Lord English? His battery is only as strong as a couple of universes, and he has to share it with every other First Guardian in the cosmos.

Plus, the kids can't be the only Players in the multiverse to accidently prototype a First Guardian. I'm sure it's rare, but it can't be once-in-all-the-worlds rare. There should be plenty of other rogue First Guardians floating around Paradox Space - and if they're all enormous threats to reality, then reality should already have been destroyed.

In conclusion: No, Doc. I don't think Jack Noir is an English-tier threat. And for the record, I think there's a much more dangerous First Guardian in this equation than the Sovereign Slayer.

[sollis-occasum]

there is a light that never goes out - anakin x queen!reader x sith!obi-wan (part 1 of 5)

summary: When your first love, Obi-Wan Kenobi, gave in to the temptations of the dark side and joined the Sith Order, you thought there was no hope for your people. However, a message from a friend you thought was dead would reignite the fire of rebellion in your heart.

warnings: angst, no use of y/n, unrequited love, blood, mentions of execution, mentions of death, mentions of biological weapons, reader is a corrupt politician (actually this is a little bit complicated)

word count: 4.2k

a/n: My story takes place in an alternative universe where Obi-Wan has turned to the dark side and Anakin has formed a resistance with the Jedi who survived Order 66 (I know Obi is a comfort character for most of us but sith!obi-wan is too attractive to not write about. What can i do? I'm just a girl) He will be in story in part 2. Also, as i said before, English is not my first language. I'm sure i made many mistakes. I hope you don't mind guys. I love you ♡

If there was one thing your people and your friends in the Imperial Senate knew for sure about you, it was that you had no intention of wasting your precious time rebelling against Lord Sidious, perhaps the most evil being the galaxy had seen in thousands of years.

Of course, it wasn’t because you had sympathy for the ugly old man or supported his fascist ideas that favored the human race. In fact, even during those unfortunate times when thousands of senators from all over the galaxy were ready to worship the Chancellor and the Separatists were on the rise, you were secretly proud of yourself for not falling under his influence—something you would rather attribute to your own intelligence than to the other senators being fools blinded by their lust for power.

Yes, deep down you didn’t recognize Palpatine’s empire and still held onto your loyalty to the Republic, but in your situation it didn’t matter. As a queen, you were one of the best at understanding how dangerous a game politics is, and you played by the rules for the good of your people. Up until that day, you had given the Emperor everything he asked of you without even bargaining. You had allowed him to change your government and install his own men, accepting the heavy taxes he demanded, and allowing him to build the weapons factories and experimental laboratories he wanted, even if it meant destroying the entire ecosystem of your planet. You had made all the sacrifices expected of you, until there was nothing left to sacrifice.

You knew that when your people looked at you, they saw not their beloved queen but one of Palpatine's puppets. To them, you were nothing more than a traitor who had betrayed the great royal family and the glorious history of your planet for thousands of years. You ignored the misery of your people in order to protect your crown and continued your luxurious life in your palace.

If only they knew how wrong they were...

You never had the courage to oppose the emperor until that day because you knew what fate awaited the people who opposed Palpatine's rule. You had seen systems falling apart, planets being invaded, and senators being executed mercilessly in front of their people. You couldn't let the people under your protection face this fate! The Emperor might have carelessly destroyed everything beautiful on your planet, but he wouldn't be able to destroy your people.

For this purpose, you would play the role of the corrupted politician your people had assigned to you in the most professional way, and you would make all the sacrifices you had to make to protect your people from Lord Sidioud's wrath until the end of your life. You didn't have the luxury of playing revolutionist. At least, that was what you believed to be right at the time.

However, in dark times, people change, and so do beliefs. A message sent to you by someone you least expected, at a time you least expected, had also initiated this change.

Using the information in the message secretly delivered to you by an old and neglected droid, whichg you had no idea how he had entered your palace, you managed to open a communication channel, allowing a hologram very close to a human size to appear in front of you.

The man had wavy hair that almost reached his shoulders, and his shoulders were slumped as if he were crushed under the weight of carrying the responsibility of the entire galaxy. He was wearing an old cloak with blood stains on it. The parts of his body that you could see were also covered in blood and wounds. He stood determined and upright, but there were traces in his eyes that even the static hologram image could not hide. Traces of sadness and despair. The owner of this hologram was someone you knew very well: The man in front of you was your old friend Anakin Skywalker.

Thank God, the droid resisted opening the message on the holoprojector in your throne room. Otherwise, you had no idea how you would explain this reaction to those around you. You started to walk back slowly, as if there was an assassin ready to kill you, not a hologram in front of you, and eventually you tripped and fell in your seat. Even though you covered your mouth with your hand in terror, your eyes could not hide your fear and surprise. You took deep breaths as if they could comfort you, but no matter what you did, you could not slow down your rapidly beating heart.

"But how is that possible?" you muttered in a voice you could barely hear. "That's impossible! You-you were dead, Anakin. Obi-Wan killed you."

Anakin, who somehow managed to hear you, smiled sadly and protested, "No, your majesty." "As you can see, I'm still alive. I would love to tell you about my experiences, but..."

"Shut up!" you shouted with a deep anger that came from deep within you to stop the man in front of you. Deep down you knew you were being irrational, but wasn't this situation you were in already irrational enough? Besides, the fact that an old friend you had been mourning for years suddenly appeared before you as if nothing had happened should have given you the right to act however you wanted, at least for a short while.

"Shut up! You can't be real. I know that the real Anakin Skywalker was killed by Obi-Wan Kenobi on Mustafar. Padme Amidala couldn't have lied to me! Who are you and how dare you use Ani to play such a vile trick on me?"

Anakin opened his mouth to explain himself to you again, but you raised your hand to stop him. A light flickered in your eyes as if you had solved a great mystery.

“Of course,” you said sarcastically. “Who else but Palpatine would dare do such a thing? You are one of his men. This droid must belong to the Empire. How could I not have thought of that?”

You ignored the desperate sounds of the ambassador droid and Anakin’s objections as you walked towards your desk to grab the small blaster from the drawer.

“That old man knew I would accept the agreement he wanted anyway. Did he really need to play such a dirty trick on me? Besides, what did he think he was going to achieve by doing this? That I would give him everything he wanted without even holding a meeting? Couldn’t he have sent one of his incompetent ambassadors who is just as ugly as he is?”

You quickly turned the gun on the droid. The small, metal astromech tried to move back and forth in fear, but it couldn’t get very far from where it was, partly because of the hologram’s loyalty to its owner and partly because the metal parts that made it move had rusted.

You turned to the hologram one last time and said in a language unbecoming of a queen, “Now fuck off and tell your owner that I will accept the deal he is offering and that he doesn’t need to play such cheap games because when I am done with him, your stupid droid will not be able to do it.”

The astromech started to make hissing sounds of protest again, and Anakin’s voice joined his. He raised his hand as if he could stop you from where he was and shouted, “Don’t you dare do that.” There was no trace of the respect in his voice when you first started talking. “This is my only chance to talk to you. If you shoot the droid, it’s all over. And for God’s sake, are you so blind that you can’t even recognize Artoo?”

You looked at the astromech again with a jerk. You hadn't lowered your weapon yet, but it was a fact that the hologram's mention of Artoo aroused suspicion in your mind. Yes, you could tell with a single glance that the droid in front of you belonged to one of the older models of the R series, and its advanced intelligence, the sounds it made, and its hasty attitude were also the same as Artoo's. But how could you be sure that this droid, whose paint had peeled off, was not oiled, and was damaged in many places, belonged to your old friend? You turned your gaze to Anakin with an irritated expression.

"I have no reason to believe that this droid is Artoo. It could be any model of the R series. And let me tell you right now that you know about Artoo's existence doesn't mean anything to me. Your owner's pet Obi-Wan Kenobi may have also told you about Anakin's astromech."

Artoo let out a sad hiss as Anakin began to angrily ruffle his hair with his non-mechanical hand. "Is he my owner?" he asked, disgust evident in his voice. "Is Palpatine my owner? Don't you dare say that again. That scumbag is nothing to me. How can you think I'm working for him when I've lost everything and everyone I care about because of him!"

"Then prove it!" you cried. You could feel the anger and pain beginning to consume you. "I beg you," you muttered quietly as you sank to the ground in front of the holoprojector. "I'm not asking for you to give me a reason, I'm begging you to give me a reason." Maybe you needed to believe more than he needed to be believed.

"Convince me that Anakin Skywalker is still alive."

You could see Anakin smiling at you, though it was blurry from the tears welling up in your eyes. It was a warm, affectionate smile that he rarely showed to anyone, perhaps even a little embarrassed.

He moved slowly and cautiously, as if you were a wounded convor who would run away if he frightened her. He reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a delicate bracelet with a round, shiny stone in the center. Even the fact that it was reflected in a poorly-made hologram didn’t stop you from recognizing it at first sight.

“Do you remember this?” Anakin asked softly. “You gave me this bracelet ten years ago, on the edge of the Nara swamp. It was my last day before i left your planet, and we got into a fight over some stupid reason I can’t remember now. I think it was something about Aiwha rights. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Aiwha rights are stupid, I’m just saying it was stupid that we got into a fight over this on our last day.”

Even though you were in a crappy situation, you couldn’t help but curl your lips. You had always been very sensitive about the rights of non-sapient species (Tusken raiders were not among them, of course; they were a whole other story), and you found it funny that the man who was talking was afraid to upset you even after all these years. The times when you fought with all your might to defend the rights of other living beings seemed so distant to you. Especially now that you can barely protect the rights of your own people.

"You were so angry with me that I thought you wouldn't come to say goodbye before I returned to Crouscant, but you sent a note to me with help of Artoo asking us to meet at the edge of the Nara Swamp. You didn't want anyone to know about this meeting."

Artoo made a noise of agreement, glad that his part in the story hadn't been left out. Everything the man who claimed to be Anakin had told you so far was true, and the bracelet he showed was a great proof. You knew that your heart was starting to believe him, even if your brain resisted it, but you didn't let your guard down. Because if the man in front of you was really a liar, you knew that your heart would be shattered again and this time, unlike what you did in the past, you wouldn't be able to put the broken pieces back together. "Go ahead," you said coldly.

"We met at the place you wanted just before sunrise. At first, you were very quiet, no matter what I said, I couldn't convince you to talk. Then you suddenly started crying. In fact, I gave you the nickname softy back then. To be honest, even today, when the entire galaxy calls you queen and bows down to you, I'm proud to be the only one who can mock you like that. Anyway... Even though it had been a month since we met, that was the first time you told me about your past. You told me that you weren't very close with your family, that you were always taken care of by the maids and nannies in the palace, that you didn't have any friends growing up. You told me that I was your first and only friend, that no one could understand you like I did, and you asked me not to go, that I should stay on your planet with you."

"But you still left." you said in a low voice. While Anakin was verbally explaining, you were so immersed in replaying that memory in your mind that you hadn’t realized that by addressing him as “you,” you were indirectly acknowledging that he was Anakin Skywalker. “You knew I had to go,” he said with a sad smile, thinking of both of you, those two innocent children who were unaware of their unfortunate and painful future at the time.

"When I told you that I belonged in the Jedi Temple, and that I had to go, you asked me for a favor."

He took the bracelet in his hand and squeezed it as if he were drawing strength from it. "You asked me to come find you and give you this bracelet if you ever ascended to the throne and become one of those stupid, self-centered, incompetent politicians. You said it meant a lot to you and would bring you back to your senses."

The bracelet in Anakin's hands was truly precious to you because, ironically, there was nothing else that made it valuable. When expressed this way, it might seem contradictory, even a little absurd, but it had a very meaningful story for you. When you were only 15, when your people saw you not as a traitor but as their beautiful and elegant princess, you had left the palace to greet your people and tried to blend in with them as if you were a common citizen and not a member of the royal family. While you were deep in conversation with a little boy about his favorite snack, an old and poor woman had timidly approached you and tentatively handed you the bracelet. According to what she told you, the woman made her living by selling jewelry in her small shop, and the bracelet was the most expensive and valuable thing in that dilapidated shop.

"Even if it's not worthy of you, please take this, my noble princess," the woman said with an embarrassed face as if she had said something very rude. "I don't mean to disrespect you by giving you such a cheap bracelet, but it is the most valuable thing I have. I am a person who is devoted to the royal family with all my heart. You have no idea how honored i would be if you accept this little gift of mine and wear it."

To be honest, even the barrette in your poorest maid's hair was more expensive than that bracelet. It was not your style at all, and it didn't even match your clothes.

But that day, in front of that old shop, you had taken that bracelet from her wrinkled hands, put it on, and never taken it off until the day you gave it to Anakin. That bracelet was more than just a piece of chain and a small stone to you. That was a symbol of your loyalty to your people. One day, when you inherited the throne from your father, you would protect everyone who was disadvantaged, find a way to end income inequality. Now, those dreams you had as a little girl made you laugh.

You may not have been able to bring justice to your people, but you had managed to become the most hated member of the royal family in the thousands of years of your planet's history. Well, that was something, wasn't it? At least you knew that one day your name would not be buried in the dusty pages of history, but would continue to be in the history books for years to come. Even if you were to be remembered as a failed leader and a traitor...

You were so lost in memories of the distant past and self-criticism that it took Anakin's cough to bring you back to your senses. You didn't have to be a Jedi to know that he was getting impatient.

"From what I've heard, it's time to return this bracelet to you, but that's beside the point. Now, if I've convinced you that I'm Anakin Skywalker, can I get to the point?"

How could he dare to come back after all these years and criticize how you governed your people as if nothing had happened? On the other hand, speaking without thinking was so typical of Anakin that you couldn't even get angry. You shrugged your shoulders irritably.

"I can't say I believe it, but I decided to at least listen to what you have to say before I smash your droid. If you want to convince me, you have to explain where have you been and what have you been doing all these years. Padme told me before she was executed that you were killed by Obi-Wan Kenobi on Mustafar. If you were alive, why didn't you come to me all these years? Why didn't you let me help you?"

Actually, there were hundreds of things you wanted to ask. You wanted to know where he has been all this time, how he escaped from the Imperial soldiers, what did he do in order to survive? But you couldn’t do it because your voice had started to tremble. It was like that whenever you mentioned him. Your throat would tighten and your voice would shake. Obi-Wan Kenobi, the once Jedi Master and the ruthless Sith Lord of your time, or Darth Whatever. You couldn’t bear to say that dirty name given to him by the Emperor, or even think about it. The years had taught you to get used to everything, but you couldn’t get used to his new identity. He was the man who had once taught you love, mercy, and compassion. He was your first love and your first heartbreak. How could he have turned into such a hateful, savage beast? How could that wise man accept being Palpatine’s puppet?

After a few seconds of silence, Anakin spoke up again. “It’s actually a little hard to explain.” You could see he was having a hard time remembering and recounting the past. But you didn’t stop him. You wanted answers to your questions, and you were going to get them. Right away.

“It’s true that Obi-Wan and I fought a duel at Musatafar, and I lost. But contrary to what my former master thought, I didn’t die there. Padme saved me shortly before she was executed.” He pulled up the pants under his cloak to reveal his mechanical leg. “Here’s a souvenir from that duel. After being treated by Senator Organa’s personal doctors on Alderaan, I traveled to a planet I won’t name for security reasons, and met up with some allies I won’t name.”

“You’re turning into a droid, huh?” you asked, pointing to his leg. Even though there was sarcasm in your voice, your expression couldn't hide your true feelings. “You’ve always loved them.” You knew what he was talking about was extremely serious and traumatic, but you had to say something right then, and that was the first thing that came to mind, no matter how meaningless. And Artoo had made a more lively sound than he had since he had come to you. You had no idea what the little astromech had understood from what you had said, but he was clearly excited to imagine his master as a droid.

Anakin rolled his eyes, "How funny," he said, but you noticed that he was smiling.

"So why did you reach out to me now, Anakin, after all these years of disappearing? What do you want from me?"

"I haven't reached out to you all this time because I've seen the sacrifices you've made to protect your people. I know what Obi-Wan did to those he thought were organizing against Palpatine. And I learned from Senator Organa back then that the emperor was watching your every move. Knowing I was alive would bring nothing but destruction to you and your people. Frankly, I wouldn't be reaching out to you today if I didn't need your help so badly. One of our friends who has managed to infiltrate the Imperial engineers recently gave us some information that Palpatine is making moves to build a new weapon."

"A weapon? Is he trying to build a new one, as if he doesn't already have every weapon in the galaxy?"

"This is a different kind of weapon. Palpatine plans to use a parasite that lives on your planet and secretes its toxic substances to create a bioweapon. It's also much more deadly than any other bioweapon he has. By our calculations, just 10 grams of it released into the air would be enough to kill 2 million people, and up to 5 million for some life forms."

You put your hands to your mouth in horror. You could imagine what it would mean for Palpatine to have such a deadly weapon of mass destruction. And was he going to do it on your planet, using your resources? "B-but how is that possible?" you asked Anakin. "If something like that happened, i would definitely hear about it..."

Your words were cut short by the sudden realization. "Of course..." you mumbled to yourself. "How could I not have figured this out until now?" You were just beginning to understand why Palpatine was so insistent on setting up a lab on your planet. You were already aware that you didn't have the most reliable intelligence team in the galaxy, but you were trying very hard not to go and punch them all. How could they not have known about this beforehand and warned you? And you were angry with yourself. After being deceived and betrayed by Palpatine so many times, how could you have believed that the lab he had set up was for medical purposes? “Good God,” you said, as if seeking strength. Because only divine power could make you endure the horror of what you were hearing.

You turned to the droid next to you with a sudden decision. You would have plenty of time to be angry with yourself and the people under your command later. But right now, you had to be strong and find a solution as soon as possible. Just like a queen. "You have the coordinates to Anakin's location, don't you, Artoo?"

The astromech confirmed you with you. "Give them to me right away. I have to go to Anakin."

Your old friend raised his hand and reached for you as if he could stop you, but the hologram passed through your body. "Don't do something stupid like that," he objected. "If you get caught, they'll kill you."

"Then I won't get caught." you said with great determination. "I can't leave you there like that, Anakin. Besides, I don't think you're in a position to object to me. Your whole body is covered in blood."

"It's not my blood, actually."

"If you think that makes me feel better, Anakin, I'm sorry, but you're very wrong."

You slowly reached out to Anakin's face. This move had done nothing but scatter the hologram, but your emotions were so intense that you wanted to reach even his reflection.

"Wait for me, Anakin."

After you turned off the holoprojector, you called one of your loyal servants over and asked her to prepare your ship. "Make sure to oil this droid," you added as you lovingly patted Artoo's head. "You have no idea how smart and special this little one is."

This was the message that lit a light in your heart 3 years ago, giving you hope that everything would change. Your old friend might have reached out to you for help. But he was the one who helped you by putting the broken pieces of your heart back together. Fate had brought you and Anakin Skywalker together once more, never to be separated again..

tags: @circe143 @snowtargaryen

[williamverse]

There was a storm during my first journey to Dunwall. Thick dark clouds covering the skies, waves crushing into ship's sides. Standing on the ship's deck, I've witnessed something I'll never forget: a Leviathan, rising from the water's surface. It felt like for that spare moment the time had stopped. A giant whale-like creature cut through the water with his fins, glistening against the cloudy sky with his dark skin. Seagulls looked like nothing but countless specks floating around him. His powerful body was covered in countless scars with the sight of which I wondered: how many of them were left by other animals and how many - by humans? Beneath his skin - fat, powering his huge body. Hundreds of other whales were killed for that precious fat, later to be turned into whale oil, that would soon power one of the ships like the one I was boarding. But he was still alive, with his power still flowing through his body, only for him to use. How many nets has he torn? How many hooks had grappled his flesh and than torn out of it with a mighty tail's swing? How will he die: in whalers' hands, getting his flesh turned into food and his fat turned into fuel, or will he die of age, turning his body into a home for a new ecosystem? I saw his eyes, full of pain and hatred, but also of intelligence.

He had enough power to turn over the ship and drown everyone boarding it. But he didn't do that, diving back into the water and swimming away instead. Maybe, if he was trying to avenge himself and other whales, driven by hatred, he wouldn't be any better than humans? I didn't think about that back then, not how I think about it now, after all those years of trial my fate has set for me. In this realm I inherited Leviathan's philosophy.

[Excerpt from Lord-Protector's memoirs - by Corvo Attano]

[anglerflsh]

What would happen if your sona became dungeon lord? Like first action?

Step one (1) make a properly defensible lair in the lower levels with beasts and traps to guard it. Step two (2) set up the rest of the ecosystem. Step three (3) ??? Step four (4) profit (in power and ancient knowledge)

[mattastr0phic]

Myricle Week 8 + 9 - DUNGEON MESHI AU

The SCP is a guild that works to secure and contain dungeons while protecting those built around them, like the Canaries. Every contained dungeon becomes an SCP site that accepts new recruits from neighboring towns and regulate the goods coming in and out to maintain the safety of those towns from the dungeon. Their members, indicated by the retrieval charms on their wrists, are permitted to study the layout and ecosystems of the dungeon to apply them to magic use and monster handling, higher level researchers earning the permit to explore deeper levels.

Clef often helps train new recruits to the guild on monster combat, but in his spare time accompanies Myriad into the lower levels. Meanwhile, Myriad is almost always found studying the monsters’ relationships with their environment. They say in the lower levels you can catch her becoming one of them, but the rumors have never been confirmed. The two are well known for keeping their secrets from the rest of the guild, and none pry as they’re high level adventurers. The can of worms that’d be opened if someone was foolish enough to try and find out…

SPOILERS FOR DUNGEON MESHI UNDER THE CUT!

Clef is actually the demon of the dungeon walking among the guild members. His hunger for desire has long been sated in Myriad, whose eternal death cycle even returns her appetite, which in itself is an ever-changing taste, compounded by other people’s memories stored within the stone hung in a pouch around their neck, also holding her soul.

At first it’s only a mesmerizing addiction, a mutual use of each other, where Clef devours Myriad and in return they analyze both the demon and command parts of the dungeon, somewhat of a half-dungeon lord. In reality, she doesn’t require much of its power at all, wanting to study the behaviors of its inhabitants naturally. Only a few outside inputs are needed for specific situations, which are the instances they may use their power for. Clef and Myriad’s relationship only becomes something more when the two realize they aren’t in each other’s company just to use each other anymore - they’ve come to coexist and simply want to be with the other.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

What native Gallifreyan species are there?

Gallifrey has a diverse range of fauna, both native and introduced. Despite claims of minimal ecological impact, the installation of the Eye of Harmony and millions of years of Time Lord civilisation have significantly altered Gallifrey's original biosphere.

🦋 Invertebrates

Beatitude Flies: Begin as maggots and pupate into golden-winged nocturnal insects. They use nectar to create helium in their bellies and are attracted to light and decay.

Butterflies: Various species flutter across Gallifrey.

Bees: Essential for pollination.

Gullet Grubs: Likely to live in digestive tracts of larger mammals, or similar environments.

Blossom Thieves: Possibly insects that steal nectar or pollen.

Scrubblers: Likely small, cleaning insects.

Neversuch Beetles, Sandbeetles, Waspbeetles: Various beetles.

Dustworms: Likely live in dry, dusty environments.

Scissors Bugs: Possibly predatory insects with sharp mandibles.

Flutterwings: Gigantic insects (3 meters by 25 meters) that never land. Five races include Wild Endeavor, Mandrigal, Silver-Band, Blue Crystal, and Perdition.

Snails

Water-Sligs: Likely aquatic or semi-aquatic molluscs.

Web-Spinning Insects: Including spiders about an inch long.

Other dangerous invertebrates: There are also nasty creatures that live beneath big stones.

🐟 Marine Life

Singing Yaddlefish: Notable for their song, and they can be eaten.

Kittensharks: Hatch from eggs and presumably grow into Catsharks.

Axolotl Salamanders: Amphibious creatures with regenerative abilities.

🐍 Elapids

Taipan: A venomous snake, 10 metres long.

Venal Snakes: Possibly nest-stealers or highly venomous.

Bat-Snakes: Presumably flying snakes.

Dinosauria: 20-meter-long reptiles resembling brontosaurs with thick chitinous scales and serrated teeth.

🦅 Avians

Owls: Symbol of Rassilon.

Flurry Birds: Likely small, fast-moving birds.

Trunkikes: Game birds whose eggs are often eaten.

Air Diamonds: Fly in the upper atmosphere, possibly crystalline or bioluminescent.

Song Birds: Various species.

Gargantosaurs: Dinosaur-like creatures, twice the size of a hab-bloc, with two legs, vestigial wings (with purple and white feathers), and four eyes.

🦣 Mammals

Plungbolls: Thumbnail-sized furry creatures living in mountains, attach en masse to warm objects.

Taffelshrews: Edible rodent-like mammals.

Fledershrews: Bat-like, mushroom eaters, nearly extinct.

Cobblemice: Mice that sprout wings.

Rovie Mice: Field-dwelling, long-lived if kept safe, sometimes pets. They have short memories.

Moss-Rats: Possibly rodents that live in marshes with moss-like camouflage.

Vex: Burrowing animals.

Gallifreyan Womprats: 1-metre-long rats with fifteen legs.

Pig-Rats: Inhabit the Drylands, presumably combining porcine and rodent traits.

Rabbits

Flubbles: Small six-legged koalas.

Unnamed rounder rabbit-like creatures

Ounce-Apes: Might be tiny monkeys that are particularly agile.

Sealak: Perhaps a kind of seal, often eaten.

Bear-Ass: A donkey-like animal with bear-like qualities.

Horse-Cats: Probably a horse/cat hybrid-like species.

Sagittary: Horse-like creatures.

Elephants

Pig-Bears: Can be trained as pets.

Wolf-like Creatures: With long snouts and black-and-white striped fur, almost as big as adult humanoids.

Broakir: Live in foothills, often hunted for food.

Baanjxx: Arboreal browsers that like to eat hallucinogenic cerub nuts. As a child, the Doctor was kicked by one in the head, apparently.

Cows

Walrus

Gallifreyan Marlot: Purple and unique in all of time and space. Probably a bit cat-like.

House Cats: Revered as symbols of intelligence. Traditionally, Presidents kept them as pets.

🐱 Killer Cats (C.A.T.S)

Killer C.A.T.S: These sapient creatures possess instinctive precognitive powers and cat-like physiology. Known for their lethal gladiatorial contests, they despise Time Lord traditions and live in the Gin-Seng Sector of Southern Gallifrey. Their culture includes mercenaries and oracles; they are telepathic.

🏞️ Ecosystem Preservation

Though Gallifrey's outer ecology has suffered, the Time Lords have used technology to preserve many species. Extinct species have been collected, ensuring none become completely extinct. The more fearsome creatures are contained in the Death Zone, while xeno-zoos hold alien species from other worlds.

🏫 So ...

So there's your whistlestop tour of the species on Gallifrey. One day, I'll try to put these onto a species distribution map. Oh, by Rassilon's Beard, I just gave myself more work.

Related:

How is Gallifreyan geography different to Earth?: The landscape of Gallifrey.

Factoid: The Fruits of Gallifrey

What could be some biological traits of Gin-Seng cats?: Looking at who the Gin-Seng cats are, their biology, and their place on Gallifrey and in society.

Hope that helped! 😃

Any purple text is educated guesswork or theoretical. More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired😴

[stardustizuku]

PART 4: Royalty Kinda Sucks

So, here’s the situation: When we are first introduced to the concept of Nobility, as seen through the Nobility’s eyes, it becomes apparent that there’s a reason behind every nonsensical tradition there is. 

You must always smile and conceal your emotions because else, you’ll be in danger, making yourself the enemy of someone you cannot refuse. Civilians must be devoted to their Lord/nobles because they’re the ones with Mana, and without Mana, the farmers suffer. There’s no food, there’s no agriculture. 

And at the beginning of the series, Rozemyne accepts this as the truth.

She sees how the amount of Mana offered correlates to the very livelihood of the commoners. Just like her, we as an audience, believe this story 100%. There’s an order to things, Nobility is inherently superior, some people just wield more power than others. 

Despite this, however, Rozemyne never fully buys into this idea. 

Ferdinand and the rest of the nobles say “There’s no need for commoners, they live entirely by the kindness or lack of it from the nobles”

While, on the surface, Rozemyne agrees to it (or more like, cannot find a way to counterargument), each every action since proves that she very much disagrees. 

She keeps listening to commoners, keeps trying to employ the orphans, educating the kids, and forming connection with the merchants. Her instance on staying on the temple is very much a way for her to cling to her commoner origins and refusing to let go of them. And, whenever someone tries to take advantage of them, she tries her hardest to stop it by any means possible.

My favourite argument she makes, is when she explains, in Part 4 to Hartmut that: 

“If we view this as nobles thinking up trendy goods and commoners making them, then nobles are the thinking mind while commoners are their hands and feet, no? Overloading commoners with unreasonable demands is no better than crippling one’s own arms and legs”. 

On the surface this is an argument that appeals to nobles, seeing commoners as nothing more than another tool that must be properly utilized. However, Rozemyne is inadvertently sneaking in one of her own core views: Nobles and commoners and equals. 

Rather than seeing commoners as an entirely detached object, she introduces the idea of commoners and nobility existing in an ecosystem. And here comes the first bit of proper commentary: 

Hierarchies are fundamentally flawed, and what we need in a society are communities. 

Rozemyne, being a chronically ill person, depends on others to do her work. To survive, we need communities and support networks. Some of the most brilliant minds and powerful players of the game do not thrive in a society that rigidly adheres to power structures such as nobility. Those so quick to toss away and dispose of whoever doesn't "fit in". Best example is Ferdiand - who was stiffled by Veronica.

This is juxtaposed with Ferdinand Hirschurl and Christine, all geniuses in their own right, extremely capable and talented. Neither of which was able to survive Ehrenfest. Even nobles of other duchies state that a single talented individual is incapable of turning the tides of their duchy. 

It’s only when Rozemyne comes into the picture, forcing people around her to function as a community, as a system, that any real change is made. She’s remarkable, perhaps more than for her intellect, in her ability to raise people. Her ability to form systems and networks of highly skilled attendants what allows her to be perceived as a saint. 

This is a direct contrast to her days as Urano, where she only ever submersed herself in books. I don’t doubt that Urano was as much of a genius as Rozemyne is - but her inability to connect and create a community to help her out was what caused her to be isolated. Only ever to see books and nothing more.

As Myne, she was forced to confront how vital to her survival family and community mean. As Rozemyne, she was forced to build her own, due to how nobility absolutely destroys said community in favour of a hierarchy. 

And all of this, is a microcosm of Royalty. 

The same attitude the nobles have to commoners is a direct 1:1 to how royals treat other nobles. They see nobles as little more than objects to be ordered around, and just like noble destroy communities and networks, royalty destroys them. Just on a much larger scale. 

Rather than seeing other duchies as, you know, arms and legs to make Yurgenschmidt more powerful, capable or rich, they see them as pawns to move around to protect/save Royals themselves. As if they are Yugernschmidt.

Whenever they say “for the good of Yurgenschmidt” it’s always synonymous with the “good of Royalty”.

The duchies only exist to serve Royals, and not the other way around. They’re more than happy to cut off Ehrenfest and let it struggle, even though it’s slowly becoming the new hot spot for technological inventions in all the country. They’re essentially crippling their own body, to save themselves. And sure, in other contexts maybe it could work. Rather amputate an arm rather than lose the head. But that’s not what they’re doing. They see their “arms” as disposable. Why bother to save one, when you have another that can work as well? (Which is dumb)

This is a direct criticsm of politicians, or position in powers, that see for themselves, rather than for the greater good of a country or the collective. People who would exploit the most vulnerable in a community to keep the status quo, all while claiming it's "for the greater good".

Sisgwald in particular is a great example of what Wilfred could have become if Rozemyne had no stepped in. He very much sees his wives as nothing but ways of attaining more power. He refuses to even think of other people reaching the throne and sees nothing past his own ego.

That’s why he is so taken aback by Rozemyne. Here comes a girl, with so much more experience at negotiating than him, calling him out directly over the many faults that royals are committing. As she points out, they went into a meeting expecting to extort her so completely blind they couldn’t see why Ehrenfest would be unwilling to enter negotiating. 

Ferdinand explained in Part 3 how, whoever has more information in a conversation between nobles has the upper hand. This ought to be the way everyone approaches anything, but Royals very much can’t comprehend this in regards to a lesser/middle duchy. To them, all duchies are the same (much like all commoners are the same to nobles) and do not require the information. This is, to put it bluntly, idiotic to the point of impressive. 

The best example? The very same meeting they had.

Rozemyne was able to get what she needed. Sure, the Royals also got what they wanted. But that’s it. They were able to obtain the bare minimum. While Ehrenfest was able to walk away with extensive concessions and much more room to make preparations. All while bruising the ego of Royalty.

And because they lack this ability to see nobles as a network, they also have the same problems nobles have. Their petty family drama gets dragged onto the surface for all the country to see. They're giving away information that's critical for negotiations without even noticing.

Hell, they almost exploded a war because Anastasius couldn’t tell Eglantine he liked her. Instead of raising each other up, like Rozemyne does, they drag each other own. Their lack of communication causes Rozemyne to be thrust into the middle of their family feud, trying her damnest to solve their problems, while they worry abt their own selfish desires. 

But perhaps the most crucial network that they’ve lost is: Information. 

Due to the fact that Ascendance of a Bookworm is a light novel about books - it’s inevitable that we would stumble at some point with the importance of achieving information preservation. Urano herself, as a librarian, is acutely aware of how easily information is lost. Rozemyne on her hand, has had to see the direct impact this has. 

The reason why the Grutrissheit is lost, is not just the war. It’s the lack of any real information preservation. And this is artificially created by the Royals themselves. 

The Grutrissheit was passed by from heir to heir, but this also meant that very few people were capable of accessing the information. When war struck, those few people were killed, and the texts that remained were written in ancient languages. A language which all but few could read (Let’s put a pin on that*).

And now, we find out that Royals of the past (possibly) implemented a barrier so that no one BUT royalty could access the Grutrissheit. This makes it so that the best Zent candidate they have right now, cannot even touch it. 

In an attempt to shield themselves from others, potentially, stealing what they think their “rightful” position is - they’ve blocked access to information. And now that they’re been killed NO ONE HAS ACCESS TO IT. 

This is something that Rozemyne, as a librarian at heart, is desperately trying to avoid. Through her transcriptions and the rapid spread of the printing industry, she REFUSES to gatekeep information. She wants it to be accessible to anyone who wants, as long as she can get something of equal value (aka, other stories/books), and that's only to emphasize the VALUE books inherently have. 

This is all to say, that the politics of AoB are quite simple if looked through these perspectives, and framing Royalty as the flawed institution it is. 

It’s about how hierarchies of power are bad. The few, who have not proven their worth, have the power to deny information to a large population and deny themselves any responsibility for their actions. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm initially presents you with the idea of Nobility as something rational, just to later point out all the ways it which it’s failing. The only reason why many things are working or improving in Ehrenfest is because of Sylvester and his ability to properly integrate Rozemyne’s ideas. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm also states that this is not a fix that can be solved in a single action, in fact it cannot be fixed in single generation. Something that Rozemyne critiques of Sisgwals is his insistence that all problems ought to be solved quickly so they cannot cause harm in the future (again, amputating an arm to save the head). 

But this is proving to be a flawed response. This idea of cutting all crippled arms is what gives way the purges, and the mana crisis they’re having. 

Rozemyne, perhaps as a chronically ill child herself, does her best to avoid this. She recognizes that just because someone isn’t “up to standard”, doesn’t mean they cannot be rehabilitated and integrated back into society. She does this believing human life to be valuable regardless of what can it offer - but because of the world they live in she has hidden this behind the “so they can give back to society”. 

It’s way more productive to save someone than to kill them. This creates a bunch of problems, yes. But it’s worth it. Being a leader it’s not an easy job. 

It’s something even Ferdinand comments on. To be a Zent, you have to give up everything you love for your country. And that means EVERYTHING. Something that, if I’m being 100% honest, I don’t think Sisgwald understands. The mere idea of him waiting to be Zent simply because that’s what he’s been told all his life is tantamount to laughable. 

At this point, the best option is undoubtedly Eglantine. If he fails to understand this and clings to a throne he’s no longer the best suited for - it’s nothing but useless pride wrapped in a cocoon of delusion. 

There’s so much that needs to be learned and work to be put in. Rozemyne does not accept the role, not because she’s humble, but because she understands this. Leading takes hard work, it takes time, it takes effort. She does not want it, and why should she? She has been offered none of the privileges of royalty, yet she’s expected to perform their labour and duties.

Those who benefit from Royalty are basically dumping all their work on her lap. Well, granted, not all the work. But definitely a good chunk of theirs. For example, transcribing ancient languages to find their stupid bible, instead of asking the temple. 

(*PIN: And mind you, people can absolutely still learn ancient languages. But another huge fault of the royalty, as it is right now, is that there’s no one willing to put in the time and effort to preserve or revive their own goddamn culture).

Yeah, sure, maybe Rozemyne has a duty to rule, as she’s the most capable…But. She shouldn’t. Royalty, who’s been trained their whole lives to rule, or support rulers - should be more than well-equipped to solve their own problems. Hell, they have attracted top talen- No. They’ve stolen top talent from other duchies, they have all the resources they could want, and they have the ultimate say on absolutely everything. Tell me why they want to poach another talented person from their duchy? 

It’s not Rozemyne’s responsibility to solve the problems of royalty. In other words, it’s not our duty to solve politicians’ problems. It’s not our duty to solve the problem of first-world countries, it’s not our duty to solve other people’s problems. 

Ugh, I’m getting heated. 

This is all, mind you, after Rozemyne was told in her early years she wouldn’t be able to achieve anything because she’s just a commoner. Which, again, bullshit. She’s the prime example that there’s nothing that prevents a commoner from being on the level of an archduke, or hell, becoming a Zent, other than a social one. Truly, Yurgenschmidt’s nobility as made-up as our own. 

The introduction, or rather, the direct criticism of royalty in part 5, is the house of card toppling in all the themes touched barely in previous parts.

The issues with meritocracy, the absurd power inbalances, the outdated view of older generations that refuse to give way to a better future for the youth, as well as a hierarchy based on an entirely made-up concept. 

It quickly proved to be absolutely a political story. But I find it so impressive that it’s not something you would notice, or at least be explicitly made aware, until Part 5. 

Part 1 - 4 made sure to lay the ground of how this world works, then in Part 5 it decided to break the illusion that it is, in fact, working. 

PREV <;< MASTERLIST >> NEXT

[lordofpower-nft]

NFT Asset Circulation Plate The Lord of Power will build an incentive ecosystem through the circulation of NFT assets. The activity and contribution are used to measure the number of benefits of users. At the same time, through the generation, circulation and value fission of scarce asset NFT to maximize the income value of users. #nft #gamefi #game

NFT Asset Circulation Plate The Lord of Power will build an incentive ecosystem through the circulation of NFT assets. The activity and contribution are used to measure the number of benefits of users. At the same time, through the generation, circulation and value fission of scarce asset NFT to maximize the income value of users. #nft #gamefi #game

[glorf1ndel]

Ahhh!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY this is SUCH a fun idea.

For the ask game, I would like to ask Merry if he thinks he could beat Elrond in battle ;)

Thank you so much! :D Let's find out...

"Could I beat Lord Elrond in battle?" Merry muses, smiling at you. "Sure. He's kind as summer and all that, so he wouldn't lift a finger against me! Oh, I know he fought against Sauron, but that was thousands of years ago. I bet his sword skills are a little rusty by now."

"You couldn't beat Elrond!" Pippin protests, walking over. "He's a parabola. Half-elven!"

"Peredhel, not parabola–"

"Whatever. The point is, he's got magical powers, and you don't."

Merry rolls his eyes at Pippin before returning his attention to you.

"Don't listen to him. The real question is, should I beat Elrond? He's important to Middle Earth, after all. Essential to the ecosystem. Also, if I did beat Elrond in battle, Aragorn and Arwen would be very upset, and I'm not sure I could handle that."

"You think you could beat Elrond, but not Aragorn and Arwen?" Pippin snorts.

"That's not what I said. Besides, I beat the Witch-King–"

"We know."

"Back to the point. I could beat Elrond in battle. I would defeat him thoroughly. Winner: me. Crown me Lord of Rivendell–"

"Let's stop right there."

Merry freezes, and Pippin bursts out laughing. You turn around, only to find Elrond smiling gently at the scene before him.

"Uh... How much of that did you hear?" Merry asks, his face turning beet-red.

"Quite enough." He grins, before turning to you with a wink. "For the record, I wouldn't dare challenge Mr. Brandybuck in a fight. He defeated the Witch-King of Angmar."

Merry beams proudly, and it is Pippin's turn to roll his eyes. You, meanwhile, are all ears. After all, it was you who asked the question in the first place!

Send me an ask for my Tolkien Birthday Party, Hobbit Style!

[leohttbriar]

what a way to explore the consequences and sources of paternalism. the interventionist efforts of the caretaker to fix what was broken by providing the end-products necessary for survival but not the means, while dooming others to a somewhat artificial competition, creating an ecosystem that cannot sustain itself nor foster any aspect of higher-level sentience in beings (like curiosity! or deep passion! which is punished!), all of which relies on reproduction.

reproduction which is delicate and fragile and yet insurmountable in its demands. like of course this civilization that depends on a top-down selective distribution of power also depends entirely on reproduction and fails when reproduction fails. it's like the failures of medieval lords-and-bondsman, where "the institution cannot guarantee the continuity of kingly life, but it is the only institution available" and beowulf, alone and irreproduced (son-less), dies with a dragon. of course b'elanna and harry are honored guests---they were foundational to the entire ocampa people for the brief moments they were among them. their illness was just a symbol of the foundation's brittleness.

contrasted with janeway cutting the entirety of voyager's strings to their community, their infrastructure, their source of power, their foundational space. they're all in a similar helplessness to the ocampa by the end of it, but the degree of choice is vastly different--as in, choice exists. the implication being that while voyager is now more lost than imaginable they're also not. and the fact that the ship is named the same name as NASA's voyager 1 and voyager 2, both of which were sent out with the absolute intention of them never being returned home, speaks to something particular as well. what ties a people to a place has to be something more dependable than the "honor" of producing offspring.

[thewertsearch]

Either Rose is adding extra formatting to be dramatic, or the Green Sun is just so important that its name spontaneously animates itself. I like both possibilities, but the former is very in-character.

Anyway - what do we know about the Green Sun?

GA: Ive Never Heard Of It

Kanaya, a Player who completed Sgrub, has never heard of it - meaning it's not part of the game's quest. It certainly sounds like the kind of thing Rose was looking for - an out-of-bounds secret.

It's green, which sure seems important. I cross-referenced its text colors against the Sburb logo, the Felt, and First Guardian lightning, and found no matches. I guess it's not going to be quite that easy.

It is notable, however, that the Sun's name uses the same formatting - and almost the same color- as the highest-ranking members of the Felt.

So far, there hasn't been much evidence that the Felt or Lord English are part of Sburb - and I don't see where they'd fit in, either. Lord English doesn't spawn in a Medium - he's summoned, through a cryptic ~ATH ritual involving the destruction of a universe.

I haven't really thought about this before, but Lord English is kind of an anti-Sburb. They both exploit predestination - one using it to create universes, and one using it to destroy them. Perhaps he's part of Paradox Space's greater ecosystem - a being who tears down old universes, in order to create space for new ones. Sburb already does the same thing to planets, after all.

Maybe, then, the game stores information about him because he's 'part of the equation', so to speak - it needs to account for him when choosing where to put its universe. The Green Sun could be his home, his weapon, the source of his power, or a symbolic name for the man himself, and the data describing it is buried, hidden from all but the most inquisitive Players.

Lord English is being set up as a major antagonist of Homestuck - so if he is a natural feature of Paradox Space, it'd be quite interesting for the kids to oppose him. They'd be standing against the cosmic forces that govern the multiverse, and that could resolve in a lot of fun ways.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 2

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Warnings: Catholic-Centric monotheism demonised, language, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD Fusion AU, Targaryens are just noblefolk, more vagueness

Word Count: 5k

Chapter Song: Harbinger - Kiki Rockwell

Yurisa and Ornmir aren't in a DND pantheon I just made them up for the purpose of the fic!

Series Masterlist

The power of words came from the ability to heed what is said, the Holy word of God revered by many and feared by others denounces the practices that don’t abide his word. Yet, your words — the words of a heretic, a pagan, a ‘devil worshiper’ — haunted the brothers, resounding in disembodied whispers cruelly reminding them of the events that transpired in wake of a seemingly ordinary day.

Neither spoke of what happened, in fear that speaking it outloud would make it a reality. It almost felt as though they shared a deranged and highly realistic dream that stubbornly did not disappear into the back of their consciousness when they were awake. A nightmare they were forced to reckon with when their Lord Father fell mysteriously ill, an infection that appeared seemingly from nowhere had him bedridden for a tenday.

His left eye had begun to fester and rot away.

Troublesome as the sudden ailment came, it all but made the brothers’ blood run cold when they soon realized the eye that had begun its necrosis would have been the same side on Aemond’s if he lost it that day. He did lose it that evening. And then a miracle — dark blood magic — brought it back. This had been the price. The saying ‘Eye for an Eye’ appeared to be most taunting in this instance.

Cycles of the moon that once meant nothing but something to measure time with became a looming presence for Aegon. A beacon of light in the night he looked onto with resentment and disgust where it once bore witness to his acts of sin and debauchery. Each phase a creeping reminder that he must return back to the decrepit hut, a threat he considered hollow until he felt the pull of the moon the closer to full it became.

The swamp surprisingly looked more harrowing during the day, perhaps it were because under the shield of darkness the night brings, many creatures were hidden away. The afternoon sun seared through the treetops, warming the marshy waters and in doing so lifted a pungent odour, souring the deeper into the bog it got. Sulfur fumes so strong it was hard to believe the sounds of nature indicated life thrived blithely, undisturbed in the thick mud pits, reedy bushes or trees when it so easily brought tears to Aegon’s eyes and made his lungs burn.

Fungus, abnormally larger than the toadstools that littered the edge of the Kings Road sat in halo’s of spores it created. Demanding reproduction and relentlessly over taking the grounds of which they grew, the damage a single spore can do to an entire ecosystem of plant life once it infected a single limb of a plant.

Nature was hideous and beautiful, harrowing and wonderous, unforgiving yet forgiving all at once. Amongst it all, as if tying the cacophony of life, death and all that sat in between nature oscillating and constant; A blissful humming. So subtle it was almost easy to miss the gentle caress in the area getting stronger, coaxing more fervently as it neared the epicentre of the swamp. 

The Elder Tree and the Hut entwined in its roots.

“Hello little lordling,” You appear behind him, but Aegon doesn’t jump. Almost as if he were expecting you to be exactly there. The same presence that plagues his thoughts, you could tell how restless he had become over since you last met. A smile pulls at your lips, tauntingly smug, “the moon is not full and yet here you are. Five moons early.”

He regards you slowly, though out of fear or caution you can’t quite tell until he speaks, “my father has fallen ill.” There is no sadness in his voice, no guilt, no indication that he is upset by what you’ve done to ensure his brother became whole again. 

You drag your feet toward him with a tilted head as you stare into his eyes of Violet, curling a hand around his jaw to look at him with far more scrutiny, your fingernails like thorns into his skin. Part of you is disappointed, the younger brother seemed to be a far more amusing moon servant with his boiled temperament, but when you look into Aegon, you see someone far less self involved — self serving perhaps but not one who uses a holy shield to look down on those who refute one God. 

He is as much a sinner as you were but for different reasons.

“That is the price, to meddle with the forces of nature.” You muse, taking away the hand that clawed into his soft cheeks, crescent moon indentations mark where your fingers had previously sat. Head tilted once again, you inspect his rugged appearance, the dark circles under his eyes and how stringy his hair looked. Leagues different in comparison to how he had looked the last time he had enlightened you with his presence. The moon gives and the moon takes, just like magic, just like nature.

”I didn’t come here to hear riddles, hag.” His lips downturn into, what you could only assume was, a frightful grimace with his brows casting downward. Haggard in appearance wasn’t the only change you could note, where he had last been in the clothes of a nobleman now he was wearing commonfolk garb. Though you are inclined to believe this is his choice to do so and not an artifact of disowning from the Lord and Lady of Oldtown.

“I’ve jokes if you would rather,” you smile tauntingly, though he looked less than amused on account of his eye twitching with an ire you had only previously seen with his brother. It must be the Moon. Though you don’t concede in your jest,“forgive me, I was under the impression you were the fun brother.”

He snapped, grabbing the scruff of your cardigan and pulling you up off your feet with a strength that seemed to surprise even him briefly, “there is nothing fun about what you did to me.” His eyes were wild, animalistic like he might just snap a little further over the threshold of man and monster. This anger appeared foreign on him, you could tell. The creases worn into his face like ridges in a tree were that of someone forlorn and closely recognised misery as a friend, not someone who was quick to anger and enmity. His ire was not of desperation as you had seen once before, it was an artificial plague of your making by bestowing him the curse of the moon in your actions of removing it from his brother. 

As if reading his thoughts you shake your head, “I cannot undo what has been done.” You have said this many times to many different people who seek you out, an echo of the woman who raised you, as she would say the same to similarly lost souls. This time it filled you with feelings distant to you but not entirely unheard of, it stirred a deep sorrow that you could not understand the origin or why. 

“Why not?” His grip loosened, a crack in his voice indicated that he will not lose himself to the beast that lives inside his very being now.

“What is taken, must be returned. Your brother's eye was returned to him, but only because it was taken from someone else,” his father, you don’t need to say as he is sure enough to understand on his own, “the curse bequeathed to your brother removed, but only because it was parted onto someone else.” You, Aegon. Your eyes watch his with great interest, his pupils begin to shrink and the violet in them return, and a faint whisper that barely passes as a thought but still registers in your mind are three simple words that shake you to the core: I’m so sorry.

***

Blood curses on their own are incredibly hostile in nature, to meddle magically with the very rivers that bring a soul life, is to be inherently evil. You recall the night of your eleventh winter, the moon at its highest and forever etched into your memory was that it was red. A Blood Moon. Auntie, (as you referred to the woman who raise you as despite her being anything but) would regale you with stories of the various cities she had visited, the travels she would get up to and despite the discrepancies in her timelines you would always listen with a grin on your face and wide eyed.

While the Moon was the symbol of the wolves, the goddess commanded her soldiers and servants when it was at its fullest. A Blood Moon was the symbol of petrifyingly beautiful harbingers of death, lustful creatures seeking blood to keep their souls appeased and their hunger satiated. Though, to your recollection, you weren’t sure what a moon decorated in a blue hue meant and who served the Moon when she turned blue.

The bones of your beloved childhood pet ferret laid out before you indicated troubling signs for the evening's full moon, it warned of uncertainty and danger. “Gods be good,” you whisper and gather the bones of the late Yurisa, you had named her after the Goddess of Winter aptly because of the fur as white as snow. The Goddess of Winter was known to be cruel and calculating, worshippers often regarding her as the Mistress of Atrophy, for when she brought her touch upon the land, it withered beneath her.

To you, Yurisa was merely a name to call your furry companion. 

Now you are well and truly alone. No Auntie left to gently guide you through the mystical arts or teach you kindness and compassion. No more Yurisa to cuddle up with when loneliness crept up like a misfortune or to scuttle around your feet when you went foraging for ingredients. It seemed as though you were destined to be alone, abandoned by a mother, abandoned by another and left alone when death crept up and seized the soul from your small companion.

Perhaps that may have been the reason your thoughts lingered to mournful and sorrowful when lamenting on the impromptu visit for the lordling Aegon days prior. The same reason that voice whispered to offer mercy the night the brothers arrived. Though, you could lament no further out of frustration of not getting any answers and by happenstance due to Aegon’s arrival.

His footsteps were weary, despite being at the hut for a third time, though the weight with each carefully placed step had an adjustment to its cadence that piqued your interest. Blood curses with transformative properties were cruel and unusual on the body and the mind, the ebbings of change often appearing in those infected a few days before and after the Full Moon. It was already taking a toll on him. 

You opened the door at the moment he raised his fist to knock, startling him slightly though you don’t notice behind how disheveled and unwell he looked, “little lordling.”  

Through his tired eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion, he narrowed them, “stop calling me that.”

“Would you prefer Moon Servant? Wolf Pup?” You are hardly smiling or even joking for that matter, as you stepped aside and waved him through.

”Just Aegon is fine,” he grumbled, compared to last time his anger was at a low level — still foreign on him but low nonetheless. His face was more sunken in, hollowing at the cheeks and under eyes as if he were more skeleton than flesh. One of many unfortunate side effects he was about to endure and he was none the wiser about how awful it was about to get for him.

By the hearth you boil water and whisk around your cupboards for the right ingredients when the question in your mind suddenly fell past your lips, “how are you feeling?” It felt like a mistake to ask such a question, as it often is only asked when endearing someone, “the pain, I mean. Fevers? Anything out of the ordinary?” You quickly add, while fussing about the pot of boiling water and various ingredients swirling in a maroon brine.

”I feel…” He had to think about it, eyes lifted to inspect the ceiling while thinking, “I feel like I’ve been hung, drawn and quartered. Though I s’pose that is meant to be normal right, witch?” His tone laced in a particular type of venom, calling you a witch as if it were derogatory but it was nothing except a label of what you are. Sorceress, Enchantress, Hag, Witch — they all meant the same thing; Heretic.

You remind yourself that as far as he was aware, he was not here of his own free will which was far removed from the truth. The lapse in your wrath the night you had crossed paths with him had you wavering conviction and offering mercy. That mercy being that he would not have to face the Moon’s Curse alone and could do it in a place that concealed him far from the eyes of the many zealots within the walls of Oldtown.

Extending a clawed hand out, you gesture for him, “show me your fingernails.”

”Why?”

”If I wished ill fortune on you or even death, I’d have done it by now, no? Show me your fingernails.” You grew impatient.

He reluctantly holds out a hand for you to grab. Unexpectedly, they were red raw around the nail but not because of the impending transformation, this was purely habitual, a very human trait that indicated he was nervous and anxious often. The nails themselves though, were beginning to blacken at the nail bed and were more hardened than what was normal.

Holding one of his hands steady, you manifest a small jar of medicinal salve and begin to lightly swipe it over the affected areas. It wasn’t going to lessen the pain of his impending transformation, but it would help stave off infection. You feel his gaze on you, not hard or weary, rather just inspecting carefully as you silently tend to his fingers.

”Erm — I’ve had joint aches and mood swings. I haven’t eaten either.” He admits shrewdly, the violet in his eyes washing away from colour in his iris slowly. It felt rather ludicrous, hearing his ailments like he was a patient and you were a healer. Though to a degree you may have been just that, even if the circumstances were very different. 

You don’t answer him, merely nodding and turning back to your boiling concoction, opting to add a touch more Docrut ash before scooping a cup full of brine into an aged bowl. It is not grand nor lavish like what Aegon may be used to, but you didn’t care, offering it to him, “drink. It will help with the pain.”

Lifting the bowl to his lips, he grimaced with flared nostrils and took a gulp only to immediately splutter it back out and cough it all over you. Unsure if he was being overdramatic or he simply wished to indignify you for his shortcomings, nevertheless, you wiped your face of his spit silently.

”That tastes like piss,” he gagged, covering his face and mouth as though it would shield him from the steaming brew in his hands.

”I never said it would taste nice,” you smile with slight amusement, “though if you forgo what is helpful simply because of its taste, I can assure you, you will regret it come morning.” He was an interesting individual, thrust into a circumstance out of his control and yet finding ways to nitpick it like the true highborn soul he was. 

“Perhaps if you hold your nose and drink it won’t taste so bitter,” you offer, remembering when as a child how much you despised the mushroom bark stew Auntie made. She would tell you the same thing, because out in the Swamp you either ate what was given to you or went hungry. Choice was not a luxury you grew up having.

He seemed taken aback by how childish you sounded, or, you thought, it was because you had said something that wasn’t inherently monsterous in his eyes. So you decide to bite a little, a smile curling at your lips, “what? Even us Hags have to eat disgusting things despite ourselves… I’ll drink some with you, if it helps.” 

You scoop yourself a bowl, holding it up as if mocking a ‘cheers’ and bringing it to your lips. He wasn’t wrong at all, it smelt awful, eye wateringly awful and as pungent as the acrid scent of the swamp outside. Gods, don’t think about the swamp water. Yet, with a pinch of the nose to seal your nostrils shut, you tilt the bowl up and begin to drink. Eyes flicking over to Aegon who is dutifully following despite the exaggerated expression of disgust.

”See,” you cough and wince as the brew burned your throat and assaulted the senses, “it wasn’t so —,” an onslaught of coughs prevent you from finishing the sentence, though when you came too it wasn’t the fact that he had finished his bowl that came as a surprise. It was the simple and disturbingly pleasant fact that he was actually laughing - at you, yes - but laughing nonetheless. 

The feeling of delight, something as plain as hearing him laugh sent troubling waves of nausea within you. Stop that, you insisted to yourself for thinking too long on such a factor but unfortunately for you it seemed to imbue you with a sense of being. 

“I’m pleased to know it isn’t poison at least,” he jests half heartedly, setting the bowl down on the table beside him. His moment of weakness, laughter, subsided and his walls were back up, though as you look out the window you are reminded that he will very much be a very different kind of man soon, and even more come the morning.

There was still some time left before a long night began, a question that had been plaguing you since that night a month ago and had never found a suitable answer by speculating, “why did your brother get attacked that night? The Lycanthropes in the swamp… They are usually docile because of Ornmir.”

He looked over at you, brow raised in confusion that was met with your annoyed sigh, “right of course — The Swamp Spirit, she has domain over this area, nurtures the land and watches over the creatures.” You explain as if it were the most obvious answer, but recognise you were being unfair on someone who most likely had no idea there was a spirit of the swamp.

There’s a moment of slight humour back in his eyes, a scornful snort exhales from his nose as he laughs dryly, “I suppose then this fabled ‘spirit’ is responsible for the attacks on the nearby village then? A beast descends on a village to kill their livestock, that feels rather opposite to being watched over and docile, like you said?”

”hm,” you hum momentarily, letting his words settle, “perhaps it’s God’s will then?” You weren’t mocking him specifically, rather his family and those who sought to eradicate the magic in the world. The surrounding village’s littered on the outskirts of the swamp were often benevolent in the few times you had passed through to get seeds or fruit, yet the cathedral spires of Oldtown were a beacon that infected many people with prejudice and it reached as far as the closest Village.

Ornmir’s domain was relatively benign despite the creatures that reside, so it did strike you as odd that something had been thought to attack the villages, just like it struck you as odd that an attack happened to Aegon and his brother. Though, your question would remain unanswered for a while longer with the light fading to blackness settling outside of the hut’s windows.

It was always darker in the marsh long before the Sun had fully set, which was natural given the thick cover provided by trees taller than Oldtown's giant Cathedral. Though nightfall would turn within mere minutes, and with that, Aegon would be more monster than man. With great haste you beckon him outside of your hut and take him behind the Elder Tree. A lantern in one hand to illuminate the way and an old dagger in the other.

The humming that vibrated throughout the swamp seemed to permeate from the very roots of the Elder Tree; it was the largest and most intricate looking tree in comparison, even shrouded in darkness. Around it, the ground littered with moss and deceptively hidden soft mud that would encase your foot had you taken a wrong step.

You close your eyes and listen softly, to the wind and its direction, to the symphony of creatures and bugs that coexist within the heart of the marshy swamplands, the humming that never ceased. The moon was on the rise. You felt it, like a presence that made the hair on the back of your neck stand, like a feeling deep within the pit of your stomach. Many serve the Moon, but all life somehow feels its pull.

“Aegon,” you address with a softer tone than necessary, “this may very well be the worst thing you will ever go through. It’s excruciating. It’s difficult. You will begin to recede back, as though no longer in control because you won’t be in control yet will feel, see, taste everything. You’re a shattered soul belonging to two now. A man and a beast.” 

A Primal beast that will exist on urges that would make men weep at the thought.

”We are going to have quite the night together I believe,” you smile wearily, bringing the obsidian dagger to the palm of your hand and cutting deeply into it. He grimaced at the sight of crimson dribbling down your forearm, but in the macabre lighting of the lone lantern and a cluster of fireflies you watch his eyes wash away all violet colouring.

Black consuming even the whites of his eyes, you gave him a playful smile, one that certainly wasn’t appropriate for the situation at hand and darted off through the swamp

***

Lycanthropy is one of the few curses that shattered both body and soul, and contrary to what is believed that the only instance of change occurs under the full moon, the blight is a month long ailment. To have bones, tendons and muscle rip, warp and rearrange to a completely different structure was harrowing enough to watch, though scholars tend to only source that this happened one night per month. 

Mending bones and muscle was no easy feat, nor was it something that could be done in a mere day. Especially under someone’s first transformation. Aegon had slept for a day and a half before awakening to what you could only assume was the worst pain ever to be put through. 

He complained, immensely, but you took that as a sign of him feeling better than anything to be annoyed about. Two days after the full moon his fingernails had finally regressed to their normal sizing, and both his hair and eyes had a semblance of life brought back into them. 

You had forgotten how nice it was simply having another person around, not even just to talk too, but another presence that made the hut feel less lonely. Though, you remind yourself that much like your Mother, Auntie and Yurisa — loneliness appeared to be your curse to bear.

”I promise this tastes better than it looks,” you hand over a bowl of seemingly beige modge podge that looks less than enticing and more like vomit. Aegon immediately grimaced but seemed to have caught himself and shook it off, probably in hopes that you didn’t notice. But you did.

His eyes widened in surprise when he shoveled a tentative mouthful of the unappealing looking soup, “this is delicious, what’s in it?” 

Snake and Eel. Against your better judgment you decide to refrain from telling him, lest he lose his appetite, “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” A sly smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you tend to the daily chores around your abode. His watchful gaze never felt intrusive or rude, it was your understanding that he merely enjoyed people watching though he hadn’t said it, it was your own reticent observation that led to that deduction.

“You are strange, witch.” Without a hint of malice in his voice, it may have been the first compliment you received from him, one that you gladly took on. Invigorating you in a way that was unexpected and worrisome. Auntie had warned you that you had a tendency to grow attached too easily, a facet that rang true for all the creatures you helped mend themselves when they were injured or the travelers that passed through that you assisted her with helping them. 

“Strange is good,” you smile earnestly at him, and though your mind was yelling for you not too, your mouth opened on its own accord, “Bramble… Auntie called me Bramble because that's where she found me.” Though you refused to elaborate when he gave you an inquisitive glance. The memory of Auntie was somewhat sacred, that was something you wished to keep to yourself above all.

”An even stranger name…” he murmured, as though in his thoughts and you weren’t supposed to hear that. 

The remainder of the morning went as such, light chatter that felt more akin to a strategic game of droughts learning a small thing about the other as the morning progressed. He was a first born of four, wildly incapable of the pressures and responsibility of a first born, liked to drink his body weight in Ale and Fine Wine and was horrid at day to day tasks as you came to learn when he attempted to help you with something as mundane as hanging freshly washed linen out.

”Good lord what the fuck is that?” His exasperated tone caused you to turn, his eyes fixated in the distance and a finger pointed at the flying abomination in the air near a cluster of identical looking creatures. Features that looked not of this world, making it appear as though it was the gruesome victim of alchemistic cross breeding, beady eyes and a rat like face of a bat but its body looked like a giant mosquito.

You looked at it, unfazed and turned back to what you were doing, “Stirges, awful creatures…” While the flying monstrosity didn’t worry you, its presence did unsettle you greatly, having not seen a nest of them so close by before. Something strange was happening and it had started from before the night of the lycanthrope attack. You wished to know what events occurred that caused such a chain reaction. An attack on a human, an attack on the village and now an incursion of horrible blights that aren’t native to the lands.

“Aegon,” you slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze which was already fixed on you, “why were you in the swamp the night your brother was attacked?” It felt as though you asked this question several times before and never got a real answer out of him or the conversation naturally diverted elsewhere. 

While he was mostly open about his admissions already, you could sense him hesitate to answer this question. Perhaps he was gifted at deflecting and that was why you hadn’t received an answer for your question yet. Though the trepidation was not for lack of honesty or a need to conceal the truth, his eyes glassy and a slight tremble in his lip indicated guilt more than anything.

“Whatever is eating away at you, is not my concern. The reason is all I care for. Something isn’t right.” You hum, the nagging feeling eating away your insides like a looming sense of dread that was hard to pinpoint and it alarmed you grately that it took this long to figure out something strange was afoot. The humming of the Swamp droned gently, undisturbed and constant and yet there was a disturbance, over by the reedy shallows where the Stirges set their nest up. It was as though they came undetected, unseen.

He sighed, drawing your gaze to him, a look of shame and guilt marred his face, “I want not for ownership of the land, nor title or to become a Lord… but such is duty,” he was resentful and cutthroat, as if the word duty was an unholy word to be spit out. “Yet my father forces upon me what I push away — it’s my fault Aemond was hurt, he should never have been out there.”

Aemond, you repeat in your head, finally putting a name to the younger brother you healed a month ago.

“The village, Watercroft, asked my father to rid them of the beast that started killing their livestock and I was supposed to lead the hunting party. I would not do as he said, I cannot,” he looked away, gritted teeth as he spoke about his father like poison to the tongue. You couldn’t blame him, since you’ve lived in the Swamps his father has ruled Oldtown and whilst the locals revered him for peace, you had vehemently disagreed.

“So I drank, complained and let Aemond take the lead — he’s the one who deserves the power, the title, everything. And we’ve heard stories about beasts within the swamplands from travelers and locals, but this was different. A monstrous scourge that devoured six of our men whole before I sobered up enough to realize what was going on. Aemond.. he… he grabbed me and we ran… right into a den of Direwolves.”

You shake your head correcting him, “not Direwolves.” 

“Right.” He agreed quietly.

His story, while jagged and a mess to make sense of slowly began to click into place for you. It was unsettling at best and at worst borderline apocalyptic for the ecosystem within the Swamp and all the land around. There was only one beast in the Swamp capable of doing what he had described and that was Ornmir herself, in her natural corporeal form as a Swamp Drake. But this revelation only offered more questions than answers, the biggest one more alarming than any other speculation you had gone through prior to this.

Why was the spirit of the Swamp so angry?

~~~~~

Tag List: @karlachs-soldier @serving-targaryen-realness @deltamoon666 @bogbutteronmycroissant

If you want to be tagged let me know :DDD

[discorainycomputer]

I was bored at uni one day so decided to make hypothetical pokemon teams for the Touden party. Some are based on vibes, some are references to the characters themselves. Explanations below, at some places I go into spoiler territory so read at your own risk. I dont know how to spoilertag so im just gonna paste a lot of "/" so people have to click read more.

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

/

Laios: In general a very monster focused team. Initially i considered filling his entire team with dragons, but found that idea pretty boring. Hydreigon is a perfect fit for Laios. It fits both his love of dragons, multiheaded monsters, and it fits one of his titles at the end of the story: Laios of the Three heads. Escavalier is a reference to the living armor, which i think is the coolest monster in the entire series. Thats not enough to have it as a team member though, so the real reason i placed it on Laios' theme is that its Kensuke. Pyroar is The Winged Lion, as Laios is the only person in the story who truly understands it. Nidoking is a monster, but it also has king in its name. Lycanrock (day) is a reference to his childhood dogs. Finally Lickylicky references his endless apetite. I chose Lickylicky over snorlax, because Lickylicky is more niche in its appeal, and Laios is the type of person who likes things other would say "Thats stupid" to.

Marcille: I struggled a bit with this team, but in general i wanted to focus on her Elf identity, which mean some more feminine pokemon. However i also wanted to focus on her ancient magic and magical capabilities. I think Gardevoir is a perfect fit for her. Its a very caring pokemon, and its a very powerful psychic type. I added Cradily because i felt it fit her a lot. Its an ancient pokemon, and its a plant. You could see this as fitting with her staff and such, but all in all i just thought it really fit Marcille a lot. Next is Trevenant, which is a reference to her staff, Ambrosia. Its also a ghost type pokemon and has a darker design than just a tree, so i felt it was a nice tie in to her having darker/ancient magic than she lets on at first. Meowstic is a pokemon i put in simply for the vibes, I feel it fits her a lot. No other reason really. Gothitelle is here to reference her Dungeon Lord outfit, but i also think its a pokemon she would like. At last Spiritomb. This is a reference to her ancient magic, and i feel no other pokemon could represent an old unknown horror quite as well as Spiritomb.

Senshi: I wanted to really include Senshis key characteristics here, but really ended up with a lot of food pokemon. Mudsbray is a reference to Anne, both the horse and the Kelpie. Torterra is a pokemon i think senshi would like. I initially wanted to use Golem or another rock type to reference his farm golems, but i think Torterra just does the idea much better seeing as its basically an ecosystem in itself. Kangaskhan is a reference to his parental role in the party, but also his need to take care of the younger generation. Perrserker is a reference to his dwarf identity, i just think its neat. Appletun is an apple pie, and Farfetch'd seems like a nice pokemon to help you make food.

Chilchuck: With Chilchuck i wanted to both think of his status as the party rogue/trap disarmer and his position as a family man at heart. I wanted to reference his politics, but found it hard to represent with pokemon. First up we have Thievul, which is just a great fit for him. Its a thief fox that steps around silently, i think he would really like this thing. Klefki is his disarming tools. Maushold is him and his family. I think Pyukumuku is actually the best representation of him. Its small, and mostly utility focused, which is really his place in the party. However its also really cool so theres that, i guess. Lastly Galarian Stunfisk represents traps, and Gimmieghoul is his (least) favourite monster The Mimic.

Izutsumi: I wanted to emphazise that shes both a cat and a angsty teenager, but ended up with a very edgy team. I suppose it fits her though. Liepard is a scheming cat pokemon. It also fits because it has a rivalry with Thievul, which is in Chilchucks team. I think it was a nice fit as they basically have a grumpy dad/teenage daughter relationship at times. Sneasel is a mischievous little guy, which is basically a description of Izutsumi. Greninja is a ninja, and Luxio kinda looks like Izutsumi. Zoroark and Umbreon are both pretty edgy pokemon which i loved as a teenager, but i do think they fit her design. This is probably the weakest team on this list, but I still feel it fits her a lot.

Falin: I wanted to represent Falins place in the story, aswell as some of her likes. Dracozolt is a direct reference to her status as a hybrid bird/dragon/human monster. Its a perfect fit really. Hatterene represents her status as a "damsel in distress" that the party need to save. Although i think shes more than that, I felt it fit as Hatterene also has powerful magic. Oranguru i thought was a funny pick, i think it fits her healing mage aesthetic, and they basically have the same design really. Scolipede is a reference to her love of bugs and Reuniclus is both a psychic type and a body. I think it was a nice fit for her. Lastly we have Alolan Marowak, who in design is an exorcist, which is a nice little nod to her and Laios' conversation when they were children. Her potentially becoming a wandering exorcist.

And thats that. I made this just for fun so there are probably better choices for some of the characters. thanks.

[zenkindoflove]

ACOTAR tag game 💕

Answer the questions below & tag whoever you want, or make it an open tag!!

Thank you @the-darkestminds!!! Your answers were so fun to read!

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

Lucien. He's always going to be #1. 🦊

Who's your least favourite character?

Azriel. I fluctuate between I can't be bothered and actively being a hater. Also the fandom's obsession with him has soured me further because I'm contrarian like that. I can't be helped. I got the ick early on and I'm afraid I'm likely not to come back from it.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

God damn it. Um, he's pretty.

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

I love me some Tarquin. I love that he wants to tear down power structures and that he doesn't trust Rhys and Feyre (as he shouldn't).

Favourite MINOR character?

How minor is minor? Does Eris count? He's not minor in my heart. He feels more major than minor. If Eris doesn't count then I would say Jurian. I need more of that chaotic hottie.

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

Elucien is my OTP forever. ☀️🌷

Favourite court and why?

I think it's a mix between Day and Autumn since I think about those two the most. Day because there is so much mysterious magic going on there, with their powers, the libraries, and the Pegasuses. And Autumn because they have all the interesting intrigue, story, and the aesthetics and atmosphere is my FAVORITE. Sooooo.... I'm gonna go Autumn.

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

Since there are the seasonal courts and the solar courts already, maybe there could be courts that can be different ecosystems (like desert, tundra, rainforest, etc). And I would do the Ocean Court so there can be mermaids, mermen, and mertheys. For no ulterior motives whatsoever.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

I need more with Lucien and Eris like I need air to breathe. Please oh please, SJM, give us that brotherly angst and love.

What's your unpopular opinion?

Let's be real. It's probably many of my opinions on Azriel. But since I already gave him a hard time. I would say probably that I'm firmly in camp Elain's book is next and that I disagree a lot with people who say "we just don't know enough about Elain" or "Elain has no development". I've made several posts about this, so I won't rehash it. But I think Elain is very well developed for her book and we've been through several life changing moments with her already. We might not "know" Elain in that she is more reserved and we haven't had her POV, but we know a lot about Elain, her history, her narrative conflicts, how other characters perceive her, and the direction that her story is generally going to take is pretty easy to visualize. Basically, I care about Elain. I pay attention to her. I see what Sarah has been doing and I'm ready and here for it. We know just as much if not more about her than most of the other side characters in this series.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

That Eris is GAY (or bisexual).

If you were swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

Fuck Lucien and if he won't have me the next available redheaded Vanserra. Preferably Eris. Oh, I'd also want to eat some food cause wtf does this faerie food taste like that makes human food taste like ass?

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

Healing I think would be the most useful.

No pressure tagging: @crazy-ache, @olenvasynyt, @ataraxiasflame, @teddyhoneybear, @lucienarcheron, @animezinglife , @starsreminisce